All the aims and desires and
complex reasonings of his being tended to this simple expression--the
wish to live. To what idolatrous self-worship Keyork Arabian might be
capable of descending, if he ever succeeded in eliminating death from
the equation of his immediate future, it was impossible to say. The
wisdom of ages bids us beware of the man of one idea. He is to be feared
for his ruthlessness, for his concentration, for the singular strength
he has acquired in the centralization of his intellectual power, and
because he has welded, as it were, the rough metal of many passions and
of many talents into a single deadly weapon which he wields for a single
purpose. Herein lay, perhaps, the secret of Unorna's undefined fear of
Keyork and of her still less definable liking for him.
She leaned one elbow on the table and shaded her eyes from the brilliant
light.
"I do not know why I should tell you," she said at last. "You will only
laugh at me, and then I shall be angry, and we shall quarrel as usual."
"I may be of use," suggested the little man gravely. "Besides, I have
made up my mind never to quarrel with you again, Unorna."
"You are wise, my dear friend. It does no good. As for your being of use
in this case, the most I can hope is that you may find me an explanation
of something I cannot understand."
"I am good at that. I am particularly good at explanations--and,
generally, at all _post facto_ wisdom.
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